Skate Away
by PineTranio
Summary: A short holiday fic. PG13 for just a few swears. AU Spike sits home alone on Christmas and contemplates how he lost the love of his life. Based on River by Joni Mitchell. Happy Holidays!


Disclaimer:  The song is "River" by Joni Mitchell.  BtVS is not mine though I wish it was(my special Christmas wish:)  I own nothing, people.

A/N:  This just popped into my head this morning while I was listening to _A Very Ally Christmas_.   I changed some of the 'he's to 'she's in the song like in the Robert Downey Jr. version, which makes me cry.  Hope you have a better day than this one.  Happy Holidays!!!

_Skate Away_

It's coming on Christmas  
They're cutting down trees  
They're putting up reindeer  
And singing songs of joy and peace  
Oh I wish I had a river   
I could skate away on

From my place on the floor, I can see out the window.  The sun had set long ago, but I never noticed.  One moment was pretty much like the next.  Nothing mattered anymore, not the day, not the night.  Not without her.

I grab the bottle of Jack Daniels that sits beside me.  I stare at the amber liquor, watching it dance up and down the body of glass.  My fingers caress the neck and traipse along the lip.  Jack, my guest for the evening and most likely, for many to come.  I blink my parched eyes several times as I continue to stare into my numbing companion.  If only I was numb!  After another minute, I press the bottle to my lips and take a healthy swig.  It burns as it slowly travels down my throat; heat spreads into my skin, flushing my cheeks and watering my red eyes.  

I lean back against the wall and look out the window.  I see the glow of Christmas lights decorating the neighboring buildings and streets.  Is it really Christmas already?  I guess so, if the small tree in my apartment is any indication.  It's Christmas Eve actually.  It doesn't feel like it though, never does.  I've been in California for years, but I still haven't adjusted to these warm, palm tree Christmases, preferring the snow covered pines myself.  But, indeed, it is Christmas and my home is empty.

God, I miss her!

I will myself not to cry; I can't take any more tears, between hers and mine, I just can't.  I'm such an asshole.

_But, it don't snow here_

_It stays pretty green_

_I'm going to make a lot of money_

_Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene_

_I wish I had a river_

_I could skate away on_

                We were together for years, so in love it gave our friends toothaches.  Sure, we had our fights, just like every couple, but they weren't very serious and there was always fabulous make-up sex to follow.  We were perfect for each other despite our differences.  In the scheme of things that actually mattered in this world, we were equal, equal in our passion for life and in our love for each other.  And then it changed.

                Through my drunken haze, I can't exactly remember how it started, but I know it was my fault; it's always my fault.

                "Stupid git," I mutter to myself before gulping down more Jack.  "It's just you and me, mate, for the holidays."  I snicker at this thought.  "Silent night.  Holy night.  All is calm.  All is fucking bright."

Of course, I'm sitting here in the darkness, have been since she left me. No, even before that, I was surrounded by the darkness.

We were living together, both had steady, well paying jobs, and talking about the future.  She was-_is _my long haul girl.  Knew it the first time I saw her.  Yeah, life was good.  Then I was let go from my publishing company and I didn't take it so well.

I don't want to relive the past, not tonight.  It seems too much like _A_ bloody _Christmas Carol_.  I can see it now.  My present is a disaster because of my past and at the rate I am going, I don't have a future.  Buffy is my future, my everything and I lost her because of my own stupidity and insecurity.

                She didn't care if I didn't have a job or any money.  She said she would be the breadwinner while I finished my book, five years in the making.  She loved me, but she left me.  Hell, I'd probably leave me too after everything I said and did!  What a waste.

                I stand up, Jack still in hand, and I sit on the windowsill.  People are walking the streets in thick Victorian costumes, caroling.  Don't they know it's 68 degrees outside?!  Fools.

  
  


_I wish I had a river so long_

_I would teach my feet to fly_

_Oh, I wish I had a river _

_I could skate away on_

_I made my baby cry_

                I don't want to be here where every time I turn around, there she is, her scent engulfing her pillow, a single sock that got mixed up with my laundry or her beautiful face smiling at me from inside a picture frame.  I wake up every morning to that damn picture, but I don't have the heart to turn it around.  

I rammed my fist through the glass once, the night she left.  I bought a replacement the next morning.  I stared at it, trying to remember how she felt in my arms, so small, but full of fire, my Buffy.  She had only been gone for a matter of hours, but it seemed a lot longer.

The sound of children outside draws my attention back to the window.  A family is climbing porch steps, their arms laden with bright colored packages.  Those kiddies are going to have a very merry Christmas.

I look back at the small tree, lovingly place in the corner.  Buffy's presents are there, all tied with bows, tucked underneath the fake branches of pine needles.  What am I going to do with them now?  

I had been so proud of myself; I shopped early and I was confident she'd love what I bought.  The holidays were going to be marvelous.  I sent my book off to a publisher and soon enough all of America would want to read my labor of love.  Money would roll in and I could be a productive member of society, not having to dip into my savings to buy a few gifts for the woman I loved.

Such a complete God damned lie.  The company turned me down, my former place of employment.  Right bastards!

_She tried hard to help me_

_You know, she put me at ease_

_And she loved me so naughty_

_Made me weak in the knees_

_Oh I wish I had a river_

_I could skate away on_

                What if I send them to her mum's house?  Will she open them, throw them away or give them to charity?  If so, I hope some chit out there enjoys the baby doll pink negligee I bought for Buffy, so beautiful in pink.

                And now I'm crying again.  It's eleven o'clock.  I'm alone, drunk, staring at presents that are never going to be opened.  All I see are spots as my tears glisten in the white lights of the tree.  I haven't cried so much since I was a schoolboy.  I just want to hold her, feel her fingers through my hair, curling the ends around her knuckles.  I miss the sound of her breath, the air passing between slightly parted lips, the subtle noise melodious to me.

_I'm so hard to handle_

_I'm selfish and I'm sad_

_Now I've gone and lost the best baby _

_That I ever had_

_Oh I wish I had a river_

_I could skate away on_

I remember the last Christmas before my mum died.  It was cold and snowing, like it's supposed to be at that time of the year.  The whole family went to my aunt's and uncle's house on a lake to go skating, a family tradition.  I was a mere lad of eight then.   I remember holding her hand as we skated across the ice, the wind pulling at my cap, biting my cheeks.  She smiled.  

I loved the feeling.  I dared to release my mum's hand and strike out on my own, nothing but the wind and me.  I slipped and fell through thin ice, the freezing water attacking my body, drowning my lungs.  Never put on a pair of skates again.

I hate Christmas.

_I wish I had a river so long_

_I would teach me feet to fly_

_Oh I wish I had a river_

_I made my baby say goodbye_

Jack is gone, leaving me to my thoughts.  I could watch T.V., but I don't.  I could call my friends and wish them happy holidays, but I don't.  I do see a small red blinking light on the answering machine.  I hit the button.

"Hey, Spike, it's your buddy, Clem.  Listen, I wasn't supposed to say anything just yet, but I had to call.  I gave your manuscript to a publisher friend of mine and he's _very _interested in it!  He'll give you a call after the holidays, but I had to tell you!  Merry Christmas, Spike.  Merry Christmas, Buffy."

I smile at this news.  This sounds promising.  I might have a book deal; Clem sounded quite confident.  This is great!  Things are looking up!  Wait till I tell…

_It's coming on Christmas_

_They're cutting down trees_

_They're putting up reindeer_

_And singing songs of joy and peace_

                No one.

                The phone is ringing, but I can't move.  

No one.  I have no one to share my news with.

                "Spike…?   Spike…are you there?  It's me…It's Buffy…I just…that is…I wanted…to tell you I l-"  Her voice was so soft and shaky.

                For a while there's nothing except the muffled sounds of sobbing.  She's crying.  I can't stand to hear her cry.  It makes me…want to kiss away all of her pain.

                Should I answer?  Before I do, she continues.

                "Spike, I-"  She sighs.  "Merry Christmas, Spike."

                She hangs up.  

                I look at the clock.  Midnight.

                "Merry Christmas, love."

_I wish I had a river_

_I could skate away on_

                                                                                THE END

  
  



End file.
